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Chapter 24 - Debts Unpaid (CF)
Gonzales’ orange eyes had blinked open. A single moment of euphoria washed over Tubba, as he embraced his oldest friend once again. He had told Dibby and Galmajo not to tell Gonzales that he had effectively died and come back - a part of him wanted to keep the memory of his parents away from Gonzales - especially the tears part. Another part of him was shocked to learn the history behind the club he had carried for extended periods in his life - the fact that another living Clubba had effectively been interred in there was a little unsettling. His role in Bubba’s death, however, could not be pinned on the club. His father had been sure to mention that, and Tubba knew that he was right. It would be a fallacy to believe that he held no guilt. Gonzales had questioned why Karubba’s club had been split open - where Tubba had made the rough crack with his knee, the ends were smoking - but Tubba couldn’t answer Gonzales’ question. It was something he would want to keep to himself. The path from Shooting Star Summit was simple. They would proceed to the tip of Ice Land, where they would board the SS Mahruav. With Mud captured, and Tubba his First Mate, the crew would obey him as he sailed down toward the Kremling Islands. He had parted on poor terms with Kremstag, sure, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Kritters could tilt the scales decisively if he could ally with Kremstag. Besides, now he had allies with him, especially Galmajo, who was quite an impressive safety net. Tubba couldn’t suppress a smile as he remembered the Magikoopa’s quick spell which had hit the stout brown Kritter, blasting him backwards and into a tree. He thought darkly of the time where he had been passed around, from the SS Wiffler, to Kremstag, to the Zazites, to Galmajo. However, since reuniting with Mud and the SS Mahruav, even though the disastrous attempt to rally up the Clubbas had failed, Tubba had felt relaxed and comfortable. They may have failed once, but Tubba had gone through worse setbacks than that. They would storm the Place of the Unruly first upon return with the Kritters, and the chaos that would erupt from that would serve as the rallying cry for the Clubbas, and those who wished to fight alongside them would join them in storming the castle. It would take too long for the Koopas to get airships to the scene of the battle, since the Clubba Castle was ill-equipped to play safe host to them. It was with that confidence that Tubba turned the wheel of the SS Mahruav, initially east, in the direction of the rising sun, before turning south once he felt they were a safe distance away from the Mainland. The Koopas had the greater presence off the eastern coast of the mainland, and the Kremling Islands were barely a week’s travel by ship. The Islands were shaped like a jalapeno pepper, the bottom half of the archipelago angled toward the Mainland. The SS Mahruav had been quite surprised when they returned without Mud and the others. It took a little convincing, but eventually, every member of the crew agreed that they would head toward the Kremling Islands, leaving Mud and the others behind as they looked to get reinforcements first. Fiero the fuzzy had proved to be the most annoying, refusing to leave behind his “close friend” Blizzerd. Still, Tubba knew that the presence of a Magikoopa would sway it in his favour. He knew they were passing from dangerous territory into slightly less dangerous territory - the Kremlings were still having their little dispute on whether they regarded K. Alm or Kremstag as their true leader. Tubba had reflected on how weird Kritter names were - Alm’s father, King K. Rool, was referred to as Rool by everyone close to him - because that was his given name. The “K” stood for his family name, Kryrant. Likewise, although Tubba eternally referred to him as Kremstag, the proper way to say it as a Kritter would likely be K. Skiles, for Skiles was his given name. A Kremling ship had cut them off before they got very far. They were approaching from the north, which Tubba knew had not been Rool’s old territory - and thus, the place where they were unlikely to encounter Kremstag. However, he was surprised to recognize one of the Kritters aboard the ship - Roaghis, one of the Kritters who had worked with him in Roolkrim. Roaghis was never his friend, but he was better than nothing. The captain of that ship, one of the largest Kritters Tubba had ever seen, his yellow scales glinting in the sunlight so he was turned almost golden, had heaved himself onto the SS Mahruav, Roaghis right behind him. The captain’s well-muscled arms intimidated most of his crew, but Tubba had Galmajo ready, perching in the crow’s nest, in case something went wrong. “Who are you? And why have you intruded on the territory of the rightful leader of the Kremlings, King K. Skiles?” The captain’s deep voice ordered, and Tubba knew it would be best to answer honestly. But before he could, Roaghis shouted loudly: “He betrayed us all! He sold Roolkrim out to the Zazites! It’s his fault why we don’t have it!” Tubba had stiffened, his red knuckles curling up as he waited for the captain’s reaction, expecting it to be one of rage. He hoped Galmajo was ready to cast a stunning spell, just like he had with Kremstag. But the captain, to his surprise, hadn’t reacted violently. “Is this true?” He questioned Tubba, his cold grey eyes surprisingly fair. Tubba guessed it was Roaghis’ reputation among the Kritters that had protected him - Roaghis had been quite unpopular when he was with the Kritters in Roolkrim. Tubba had spoken the truth, denying any wrongdoing in the loss of Roolkrim. He told the captain that he wished to see Kremstag himself, but the captain told him he could only come alone, but he was willing to set up a meeting. A little bit of bartering and haggling later, the captain agreed for Gonzales to accompany him - Dibby would follow along silently - but refused to accomodate Galmajo. That was how Tubba found himself in some of the most disgusting caverns in the Mushroom World, feeling dirty water squelch beneath his feet, submerged up to his knees in the black water. Stalactites reached down from the ceiling, dripping water on the captain, Tubba and Gonzales as they pushed through the sludge. The path they were traversing was a little rivulet in cavern, wide enough for Gonzales and Tubba to walk side by side, and incredibly long - it felt like they had left the light of the outside, at the entrance of the little rivulet, many hours ago. On the banks of the water they were trekking through were torchlights, with Kritters chomping and crunching on food, their tails waggling menacingly as they saw the two Clubbas trekking through the sludge. Tubba felt no fear - only curiosity. The Kritters were living quite primitively in this cave, clearly comfortable among the rocks and dirty water, and had imposed things such as torchlights on the cavern, despite the bioluminescent glow of the purple rocks. He wondered if this was basic living as a Kritter - he guessed it wasn’t, since most of the Kritters he saw were males, and thus part of Kremstag’s resistance against Alm, rather than making a life for themselves. Finally, the captain led Gonzales and Tubba into the end of the little stream they were trudging through. With relief, Tubba clambered out of the water and onto the raised stone platform, the area around them lit up by torches. There were three Kritters already present, with one sitting on a makeshift throne made out of the same purple stone as the walls. “Tubba!” Kremstag snarled, leaping to his feet, his brown knuckles curled around his spiked mace. “How dare you come into my throne room?” Tubba winced internally at Kremstag calling the dingy place around them as a throne room. However, aware of the captain swelling up angrily beside him, as well as the two guards around Kremstag, Tubba waved his hands down, as if to fan Kremstag’s flames of fury. “Calm down, Kremstag. That was a massive misunderstanding.” Feeling painfully unarmed - he had not got a replacement for Karubba’s club yet, and Gonzales had been forced to leave his on the SS Mahruav, Tubba continued. “Hear me out. I’ll explain what really happened.” Thankfully, Kremstag was willing to listen this time, unlike the time aboard the Zaz ship. Slowly, Tubba explained the full story, how he had been knocked out in Roolkrim, and captured, likely because he was a Clubba and not a Kritter - he was different from everyone else. Then, Tubba explained how, upon escaping from them, he had headed toward Gusty Gulch, but failed to liberate the Clubbas. “And that’s why I need your help, Kremstag.” Tubba finished. “I know that you can help us.” The sudden image of the aging Bowser flashed through Tubba’s mind. The first time Gusty Gulch had fallen, he had came to Bowser for help, only for the then-Koopa King to reject his offer on the basis that there was nothing in it for him. “I’m not about to help you without adequate compensation,” Kremstag pointed out, causing the image of Bowser to flash through Tubba’s mind again. He swore internally - he should’ve been smarter and phrased that better. “You have to help me overthrow Alm, before I’ll help you reclaim Gusty Gulch.” “I don’t need your help,” Tubba countered, his mind searching for a way out. He did not want to get involved in the conflict with the Kritter’s, not when he knew it had already been raging on for a year and could rage on for years more. “We have friends further south from here,” Tubba bluffed, hoping Kremstag wouldn’t read through his bluff. “Help us first reclaim Gusty Gulch, and then maybe I’ll help you with Alm.” “You have friends south from here?” Kremstag echoed the words. He narrowed his eyes, and Tubba could tell he was reading through his bluff. “I’m sure the vast expanses of empty water will be great friends.” Too late, Tubba realized that there were no known landmasses immediately south of the Kremling Islands. “In fact, my men will bar the northern route. You travel south, meet your friends, and go back around the southern edge of the Mushroom Mainland.” Kremstag crossed his arms, clearly pleased with what he said. Tubba knew that if the northern route was barred, the only way back home would take six or seven weeks, having to sail all the way around the Mainland, or dock in Sarasaland, the Mushroom or BeanBean Kingdoms, and lurk through the bushes. “Fine.” Tubba said, defiance surging through him. “Suit yourself.” He spun away from Kremstag, plotting the route they would take south.